Dementors on Parade
by Kissy Fishy
Summary: It's the worst job in the Ministry, but someone has to do it... A series of oneshots about dementors and the witch who cares for them.
1. Blind Date

My name is Serena Blackburn. I am a witch working in the Ministry of Magic, in the Magical Creatures department. Specifically in the sector that deals with dementors. And let me just say: it sucks. No pun intended.

I work alone, in a dingy little office that no one bothers to clean because the dementors are more at home in a filthy, cobwebby place (never mind me). There are no windows letting in the magical sunlight, dust everywhere, and I swear I saw a spider dragging a rat across the floor last night.

One would think that, after eight years in such a place, I would be used to it. Not so. I hate it. I wish I could quit, but I can't, because if I did, who would help the dementors? So about once a month, I march up to the Minister's office and demand an assistant. None can ever be found, so I demand a raise instead. I am the highest paid Ministry worker, and nobody has the balls to argue with the dementor witch.

So, as head of the dementor sector of the Magical Creatures department, I have a lot of things to do. I have to make sure the dementors are getting food whilst at Azkaban, run the prison guard initiation, and make their experience working for the Ministry as miserable as possible.

Dementors revel in grief and misery, even their own. Which is why they're not particularly interested in finding a… partner. And reproducing.

But the Ministry needs dementors.

* * *

I sighed as I stepped back, shaking my head a little. "Beautiful," I managed. My eyes even got a little moist.

The dementor before me gave a rattling breath in response, probably unaware that I had placed a giant pink bow on its head. I shrugged. I needed to… _observe_ the dementors' courting actions, and I needed a way to tell them apart. It was hard enough already.

"Are you ready?" I asked the dementor.

I like to pretend the creatures can understand me. It's probably a long shot, but sometimes I find myself carrying on conversations with the dementors, and I tell myself they can solely to keep myself sane.

The dementor just breathed.

I pursed my lips and held out my hand. Slowly, the dementor reached out, curling its cold, rotting fingers around my gloved palm. I remembered the day I forgot my gloves: I had spent the next month cowering in my bed.

The dementor floated behind me, dragged through the air by its grip on my hand. I led it out of the room and over to the glass observation room. Gently, I pushed the ghoulish creature through the doorway and closed the door. Then I frolicked to my chair, grateful to sit down, and waved my wand. The door on the opposite end of the room behind the glass opened, and in floated Suitor #1, a handsome dementor in a tuxedo bowtie. I flicked my wand again, and the quill on the parchment beside me stood poised, ready.

"Please make my job easy and like each other," I prayed.

Lady Pink Bow sniffed at her potential mate (I think. I once tested their sense of smell, and confirmed that they _do_ have one, just not a very useful one.), then turned her head away in disgust.

I sighed, looking at my quill in exasperation. It looked back at me, feather drooping. "Next," I decided.

***AN: So, here we have a setting! Ish. These one shots will have a lot of Serena first person, a lot of dementors POV, and a side of the new Minister Fudge. This takes place before Harry Potter, or at least during his early years. So, technically, I'm not breaking my one rule. Well, okay, yes I am, but I couldn't resist. Dementors are too much fun. **

**Feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading!***


	2. Chocolate

_Chocolate_

Someone knocked on my door.

For a long time, I just sat in my dusty chair, gaping in shock. A spider could have spun a web in my mouth, I had it open so long. I exchanged a look with Lady Pink Bow, who was certainly as shocked as I was.

Finally I realized I must have imagined the knocking. With a shake of my head, I picked my quill up again.

_The effect of the bow on the dementor's drive to reproduce seems to be nonexistent. In fact, it seems to have no effect—_

Someone knocked again.

I jumped up. I did _not_ imagine it that time. I started to get excited—no one ever came to my door!

My giddiness died just as quickly as it had formed. I glared at Lady Pink Bow. "If any of the dementors have gotten away from Azkaban and terrorized Muggles again, there _will_ be blood," I snapped.

Lady Pink Bow just breathed at me, continuing to float lazily by my desk.

I marched around my desk, adjusting my gloves and robes as I went. I caught a glimpse of myself in the dirty mirror as my hand touched the doorknob. I shrugged. The dementor witch could have frizzy hair if she wanted to. With that, I opened the door.

Confusion made my brows knit. "Fudge!" I exclaimed. I looked at him, taking in his bright outfit the bowler hat he held in his hands. "What are you doing here? This isn't your department."

Fudge blinked. "Well, I… I was just wondering how you were doing."

I eyed him warily. "Fine…"

"I brought you some chocolate," he stated, producing a bar from behind his hat. "Because of the dementors." He held it out, practically begging me to take it.

I forced a smile. "Thanks," I said, accepting it.

Fudge looked past me into my office, wrinkling his nose. "It's a bit dingy, isn't it?" he remarked.

I stopped trying to be happy. "Dementors like dingy," I snapped.

"Oh." Fudge twiddled with his hat. "Right." He bit his lip nervously. "I suppose I ought to go now," he mentioned. He toddled away.

I scowled, closing the door and making my way back to my desk. "What an idiot," I mumbled.

Lady Pink Bow did not have eyes, but I knew she was watching me. I didn't dare touch the chocolate in front of her. It could seriously offend her.

Yes, that was the reason.

***AN: I think I will jump around with this. Flash between Serena and dementors, and there won't be any real storyline, except for Serena's dating life. **

**Also, I forgot to mention this last chapter, but the title for this fic came from Ludo's "Skeletons on Parade." A great song. Thanks for reading and reviewing!*  
**


	3. Holy Matrimony

The dementor priest lifted his arms, and an organ began to play. All the dementors in the pews rose as a dementor in glorious black robes made her way down the aisle. The Harry Potter theme brought a tear to many eyes. If, you know, dementors had eyes.

The music came to an end as the she-mentor reached the altar. The church was old and crumbling, with many cobwebs and a broken crucifix on the wall. Ideal for dementors.

The priest dementor lowered his hands and lifted a book from behind the altar. "We are gathered here today," he announced in his rattling dementor voice, "in the presence of family and friends—."

A ripple of laughter went through the audience. Even the priest chuckled.

"For the purpose," he continued, "of uniting in marriage these two… _angelic_ lovers."

It was more than a ripple this time. The bride had to hold her bouquet to her mouth to keep from cackling.

The priest, clearly grinning despite his inability to do so, turned to the "groom." "Groom," he stated, "do you take this woman—." He broke off with a loud "HA!" "Ahem. _Woman—_to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to _love _and _comfort _her—."

The groom sputtered with laughter.

"To _honor _her!" The priest was practically giggling now, as was the rest of the church. "And keep her in sickness and in health, till _death do you part!_"

It was too much. The groom buckled under his own hoots of laughter, doubling over. Many of the dementors in the audience slapped the back of the pews, they were chortling so hard. The bride was giggling into her flowers. "This is absurd!" she cackled. "Till death!" She could say no more words, her gales of laughter preventing her from doing so.

"L-look at this!" The priest could hardly float. "For better or worse!" He tried to show the book to the groom, but could not stop laughing long enough to do so. "Oh! You have to give her a ring pledging your undying love!"

For a moment, the church went silent. Then someone sputtered, and the howls and hoots started up again. The building rang with it, groaning like ghosts haunted it. Which at the moment, they kinda did.

Abruptly, the church doors burst open. The dementors' laughing died away as they realized who it was.

Serena blinked at them, gloved hands on the door handles. "Are you guys making fun of humans again?"

The dementors were silent.

Serena folded her arms. "Is this a wedding?" She rolled her eyes. "Is nothing sacred to you demons? That's it. Friday's Monster Mash is canceled." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed away.

"No Monster Mash?" the dementors yelped. They dropped their fun and sped after her. "No! Serena! Wait!"

***AN: This was Dad's idea. Blame him.**

**This was actually the first idea for this story. Odd, isn't it? Serena wasn't even a character then.***


	4. Lonely Little Witch

"Nice bow, Francine."

Francine put her rotting hands on her hips and gave Nicole a _look._ Her pink bow drooped along with the rest of her figure. "You're just jealous because I have individuality," she snapped.

Nicole shrugged her bony shoulders. The dementors were on break, enjoying a cup of misery or a spot of devastation in the lounge. Some hovered near the old ceiling fan, snacking on cobwebs and dust. Others chatted by the draft, enjoying the chilling breeze. "I'm just sorry you're getting paired."

"I know," Francine complained. If she'd had eyes to roll, she would have. "All I want is to be lonely and miserable for the rest of my days. Is that too much to ask?"

"Humans think partnership equals happiness," Nicole stated.

Abruptly Francine jumped up (as best a dementor could, anyway) and exclaimed, "I've got it!"

"Got what?"

"Serena!" Francine said. "She's lonely, and she needs partnership to be happy!"

Nicole grimaced. Dementors are actually capable of many facial expressions, despite their lack of face. They also speak through breathing, so to a human, this entire conversation would sound like this:

*heavy breathing*

*small gasp*

*cough*

Etcetera…

Anyway, Nicole grimaced. "Why would she want to be happy?"

"Because she's human," explained Francine. She snapped her ugly fingers, and some of her skin peeled off. "I've got an idea."

Nicole listened intently as her fellow dementor told her the plan, and a grin formed on her lipless mouth. (But not really, because they're dementors.) She lifted her hooded head, swinging it around. "Hey Mike!" she called.

A dementor by the counter glanced up. He floated over, a smoking Dixie cup clutched in his rotting fingers. "What up, Nikki?"

"You're next on Frankie's list, right?" she asked.

Mike shrugged. He moved oddly fast for a dementor, his movements jerky and not the creepy slowness the others possessed. "Yeah, why?"

Francine smirked. "Well, here's the plan…"

***Aaaand dementors love Serena. Even though dementors hate love. In fact, they love to hate love. ...I'm going to make a chapter out of that.***


	5. Blind Date part 2

I had gone through three male dementors. Lady Pink Bow wasn't taking any of them. Good God, it was boring.

"You know," I said to my quill, which was studiously taking notes on the dementors (good ol' quill, eh?), "I'm starting to think this dementor is gay." I glared sharply at my quill. "_Don't_ write that."

My quill scribbled out its last line and returned its attention to the dementors.

Suddenly, there was a popping noise to my right. I glanced over, not the least bit unnerved. "Oh, hey Fudge," I greeted nonchalantly. "Come to see the show?"

Cornelius Fudge, Advisor to the Minister, frowned and adjusted his robes. "Well it just so happens that I have some spare time," he told me.

I shrugged and waved my wand. A chair appeared beside me with a screeching sound. "Have a seat, get comfy," I said. "It's going to take a while." I held out my hand.

Fudge blinked at me. He took my hand before sweeping up his robes and sitting down, using my hand to steady himself. "So what's happening here?" he queried.

"A bit of matchmaking."

His face grew confused. "With dementors?" he asked. A repulsed expression took over his features. "You want them to _breed?_"

I rolled my eyes over to Fudge. "You want dementors, don't you?" I looked back to the glass room. The dementor I had previously dressed in a black bowtie was circling the one with the pink bow. I could practically hear its rattled breathing as it inspected its potential mate.

"How do you tell if they like each other?" Fudge wondered. He had removed his bowler hat from his head and started fiddling with it.

I gave his annoying habit a sideways glance and sighed. "They kiss."

"Excuse me?"

"They try to suck each other's souls," I snapped, as if this were obvious. It was called a dementor's kiss, wasn't it? I pointed. "See, he's starting to swoop down on her."

Fudge gaped. "Is that natural?" he cried.

I shrugged again. "Well dementors came from somewhere, didn't they? Besides, if we leave them there long enough, the female will steal the male's soul and pretty soon we'll have two or three little dementors running around." I glanced over at him, just to see the shocked expression on his face. I smirked. "Look, they're starting."

Fudge both did not want to look and could not look away. I watched his face as the dementors began inhaling each other. The female always wins, or at least does according to my research. Sometimes I wondered what would happen if she didn't.

A thought occurred to me. Maybe the females don't _have_ any souls. They can't lose!

My eyes flicked over to my quill. "Make a note of the girls not having souls," I told it. "I want to check that later."

The quill scribbled in compliance.

Fudge tore his eyes away from the dementors and stared at me. "How do you handle these creatures?" he said, and I thought I detected a hint of admiration in his words.

I had to smile. "They like me, for some reason." I paused. "I think that's why I got this job." The thought made all others screech to a halt. How _had_ I gotten this job? I hardly remembered it. "Or maybe someone gave me a sleeping drought. It kinda seems like I just woke up in that office." I leaned forward, contemplating, and my hand slipped out of his. I hadn't even realized we were still holding hands. "Hm." Absently, I glanced up.

And nearly leapt out of my chair.

"Oh my God are you seeing this?" I exclaimed, and my outburst was so sudden that Fudge jumped. "Look at them! They're holding hands!" I turned to the quill and parchment. "Are you getting this?"

"Is that good?" Fudge asked hesitantly.

"I don't know!" I cried. "It's never happened before. What's different about these two? Is it the bowtie? I thought it was tacky at first but maybe it was a good idea after all. Or maybe…" I gasped with epiphany. "Maybe they're not just interested in mating! Maybe these two want a partnership!" I whipped around and grinned at Fudge. "Isn't this wonderful?"

Fudge grimaced. "It's rather creepy, actually."

I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to the dementors. "Look! Look! Oh that's so _cute!_ What else might they do? I wonder, if I play music, will they dance? They look like they might!" I spun around. "I need a record player." I went to run upstairs, but Fudge caught me.

"Wait a minute!" he exclaimed, holding me back. I looked up at him, confused. Never mind his arms around me, stopping me. "Don't you think you should just observe, instead of interfere?"

I blinked. Damn. He was right. I sighed. "Fine," I agreed. "But next time, I'm playing music." Dejectedly, I went back to my chair and sat down hard in it. Fudge took his seat again, moving his robes as if he couldn't decide whether to sit on them or not. I frowned as I watched the dementors. "They're holding hands, but usually they've kissed by now," I muttered. "Why aren't they kissing?"

With a confused scowl, I watched the dementors. The female slipped her hand out of the male's, and the boy began fiddling with something nonexistent. I stared at his strange behavior. What was he doing? It almost looked like he was…

The answer dawned on me. I looked over at Fudge, who was incessantly playing with his bowler hat. A glance back at the dementor told me it was mimicking his actions.

"Oh…" I said slowly.

"What?" Fudge wondered. "What is it?"

I grinned. "They're copying us."

Fudge stared at me as if I had lost it. "They're dementors," he stated.

"Yeah," I agreed. "And we were holding hands, so they held hands. You're playing with your hat, so he is too." I pointed. "That's why they're not kissing. Because they're copying us…" I trailed off, pondering this dilemma. Suddenly, I looked up at Fudge. "Um…"

The look the Minister gave me was positively priceless. "Excuse me?" he demanded.

"It wouldn't mean anything," I snapped. Was kissing me that undesirable? "It's for research." I looked at the dementors again. The one with the bowtie had wrapped his arms around the waist of the girl, as if stopping her from getting away. I blushed. They had left copying us in the dust, it seemed.

Fudge sighed. "Well," he began, "I suppose if it's for research." Gently, he turned my head to face him. I closed my eyes, and not a moment later I felt his kiss.

I pulled away almost instantly. I wasn't going to miss a moment of these fascinating copying dementors. "I wonder how long it will take them before they mimic it," I murmured. "Do they process these things? Do they understand what these gestures mean, kissing and holding hands? I should form some sort of test to see if they can understand this stuff. And what—?" I stopped and looked to my left. The chair was empty. "Fudge?" I called.

Fudge stopped at the foot of the stairs, his hat on his head.

I blinked, confused. "Are you leaving?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm afraid I have some matters to attend to in my office."

I stared at him. "Oh," I said. "Okay."

Fudge nodded, almost to himself, and took one step before he stopped again. He turned towards me, but kept his eyes on the ground. "Do you remember when we were in school together?" he asked me quietly.

Well, this was rather out of the blue. I nodded. "Yeah, of course I do. We sat next to each other in Transfiguration." I paused. "Every year." Wow. I had completely forgotten that.

"Yes, that's right," Fudge went on. He refused to look at me. "Seven years in that class and I—we never had an actual… conversation."

I frowned as I thought about this. I vaguely remembered short, one sentence exchanges between us, mostly complaints about the homework. "Huh," I said plainly. "I guess you're right."

"And you," Fudge went on, "you were dating the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain."

"Oh yeah." I laughed a little. "I remember that bonehead."

Fudge stared at me, his expression baffled. "You really couldn't tell?" he breathed, and I got the feeling he wasn't talking about my ex-boyfriend anymore. "Seventeen years I've known you, and you still don't see it."

"See what?" I wondered.

The Minister's advisor sighed. "Nothing," he mumbled. He continued up the stairs, not looking back.

I blinked. "That was… strange." I turned back to my dementors, trying to forget Fudge and his strange behavior. The moment I sat down, I jumped back up again. "Yes!" I cheered. "That's what we need!"

The dementors had started sucking the life out of each other, and I noticed that the one in pink seemed to be dominating. "It doesn't look like anything is being sucked out of her," I stated, sitting back down. "This backs my 'women have no souls' theory."

Suddenly, the female dementor broke away. My eyebrows knit in confusion. I watched the male hover away, his hooded head hanging in an almost dejected way.

Oh. They were mimicking the scene after Fudge and I had kissed. I nodded as I observed, stunned by how well they copied it.

Then the dementors did something that shocked me beyond belief. The dementor with the pink bow chased after her rejected mate. I cocked my head to the side. She grabbed his rotting hand and yanked him back. She made a strange sound, audible even through the glass, and… it was like she wanted him back. And then, instead of sucking the soul right out of him, she hovered toward him in a hug.

"What the hell?" I said in disbelief. "Fudge and I never did that—." I broke off abruptly. "Oh," I breathed.

***Good God, romance. Ish. But it's going to be so much fun later on. I just know it. **

**And women don't have souls. Which is fine, because I'm a woman. And... oh my gosh. A ginger dementor. Yesss...*  
**


	6. Blind Date part 3

I stood up so fast I knocked the chair over. "Fudge!" I yelled, and I sprinted up the stairs. "Fudge!"

I reached the top of the stairs and gazed around, searching desperately for that trademark bowler hat. He was nowhere in sight.

What if I had ruined everything? I had to find Fudge right away, and fix this. Desperate, I grabbed the first person I saw. "Did you see where Fudge went?" I demanded.

The wizard recoiled from my touch. I grimaced, realizing I must have been giving off an aura of dementor. "He said he was going to his office," he said in a strangled tone.

Without waiting another moment, I turned on the spot and Disapparated.

* * *

As soon as Serena vanished up the stairs, Francine and Nick pushed away from each other. "Finally, it's over," Nick sputtered, choking.

Francine wiped a hand across her mouth. "You taste like a Christian Muggle!" she spat. "Yuck!"

"Well sorry for not having a soul as black as you'd hoped," he snapped back.

"Me too."

Nick scowled as best a dementor could scowl. "I hope you turn into a human and marry and have children!"

Francine gaped in horror. "How dare you!" She looked through the one-way glass. "If Serena isn't happy at the end of this, I'm going to suck that Fudge dry for all the heaven he's put me through."

* * *

Aaaaand that's how the dementor witch got a boyfriend.

***I hope the Christian Muggle jibe doesn't offend anyone. I'm Christian, so it should be okay, right? **  
**And I don't care if dementors feed on love. They take their souls like they take their coffee: black as night and sweet as sin.*  
**


	7. Family Problems

Dave noticed Nick was acting a little down today. Being the good friend he was, during their break, he met with Nick just outside the prison so the two could have a good soul smoke.

"Nick, what's eatin' ya?" Dave asked. "It's like there's hardly any life in ya."

Nick took a long puff of his soul, letting tendrils of it escape his mouth. "It's Betty, ya know?" he said, and the soul left his mouth in a cloud. "She's really bringing me down lately." He sighed and shook his clothed head. "It's like she's sucking the life out of me. I can't do nothin' without her breathing down my neck." He rubbed his neck, as if he could still feel the chills.

Dave just nodded. He was without a she-mentor in his life, although that was fine with him.

Apparently, Nick thought so too. "You're so lucky. I shoulda stuck with being a loner. Now my life sucks. Literally."

"Yeah," Dave agreed. "My soul's a little small to be sucked, if ya catch my draft."

Nick _did_ catch it. He shivered with the wind from his friend and took another puff of his soul smoke. "Betty wants me to quit smoking, too."

"How's that?" wondered Nick.

Dave shrugged and threw the smoke into the roiling waves below. "They got some new patch. 'A patch a day keeps the cravings at bay.' 'Cept I hear some folk get soul-allergies once they hit those things."

"Don't do it, man," Nick advised. "I don't trust 'em."

Nick nodded. "Well, I oughta get back to work now. See ya 'round, Dave." He drifted away.

Dave sucked his smoke and exhaled. "See ya, Nick."

***Male bonding amongst dementors. It happens.***


	8. Smoking

I dropped my files on the Advisor to the Minister's desk, making him jump. "Serena!" he exclaimed. He eyed my stack of papers warily. "Couldn't you have sent these by plane?"

"I didn't want to fold them all," I stated. I winked. "And I needed an excuse to see you." Yeah, sure, Fudge. You wouldn't look at these damn things if I didn't shove them in your face. "Well, I got work. Bye now." I started walking out of the office.

"Wait, Serena," Fudge called.

I halted. His tone sounded work-related. I hated work-related things.

With a forced smile, I turned. Fudge had stood up and was approaching me with a file of his own. "The prisoners have been complaining about smoke."

I blinked. "Smoke?"

"Yes, your dementors have been smoking on the job, and the prisoners don't like it."

I stared at him. "It's Azkaban," I said flatly. "The prisoners don't like a lot of things."

Fudge grimaced. "We're trying to break their mental spirits, not give them lung cancer!" he said, sounding exasperated.

Wary, I flipped open the file. Oh God. It had bullet points. "What is this?" I cried.

"It's a suggested program Rita Skeeter came up with," Fudge stated. "Her readers really like it."

I rolled my eyes. "So now Rita Skeeter's got a soft spot for criminals, does she? When will she get a soft spot for my dementors?" I looked at the program a little closer. "No, no, no, I'm not doing this." I put it back in Fudge's arms.

"Serena, I don't want to make you do this, please just try it," he begged.

"You can't make me do anything," I replied. With a swing of my hips, I approached him, only stopping when we were chest to chest and I could fiddle with the ties of his robe. "You and I both know who wears the pants in this relationship, Cornelius," I murmured.

Fudge gently pulled away. "Just give it a go?" he pleaded.

I made a sour face. "Fine," I snapped, snatching the file from him. "But don't expect good things to come of this!" With a huff, I left his office.

***Oh Rita. Pissing people off since the 70s.***


	9. Stop Dementor Smoking Program

I could _not_ believe Fudge was making me do this.

Neither could the dementors.

"Okay, folks," I began with a sigh. I had procured one of the hearing rooms for my task, and was currently standing where the chained chair usually went. With a wave of my wand, I transfigured the wall into a chalkboard and turned my bobby pin into chalk. "We are going to have a little chat."

I looked around at the dementors, all seated quite studiously around the room. A few were starting to float from their seats with boredom, but dear God, so was I.

Sighing again, I went to the board to write and found I could not reach the top. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

Damn my height.

Oh _sure,_ Selena, why don't you just write it lower? Or use magic? Is that what you're all thinking? Hm?

Logic did not matter. My pride was at stake here.

The dementors were all watching me with their nonexistent eyes. One moaned.

"No, I do not need help," I snapped, eyeing the dementor. It shrank back in its seat and hung its head.

Determined, I stretched again. No dice.

I let out a frustrated snarl and wrote "STOP SMOKING" in huge letters across the entire board. The dementors peered at it with interest, and I threw the chalk at the wall. "Any questions?" I demanded.

There were none.

I grinned. "Great! Back to work." I clapped my hands of chalk dust and left.

***Poor Serena. So short. I want to draw these, make them real comics. I think it'd be a lot of fun.***


	10. New Girl

The dementors all gathered around cell number six. Someone new had just arrived. "Isn't she a dish?" one of them said excitedly.

The prisoner eyed them warily.

"I bet her soul is as bitter as a serial killer's," another breathed.

"Black as night and sweet as sin," a third added. He twisted his rotting hands together in glee.

"I call first suck!" one shouted.

"Yeah right, bonehead, I brought her in! By prison rules, she's mine!"

One of the dementors shuddered happily. "Do you _feel_ this aura of hers? Delicious!"

They all crowded a little closer, gripping the bars of the cell and pushing their hooded heads through the gaps and panting at the prisoner.

The prisoner gazed around in confusion, but that did not last. It was clear she had a crowd of admirers, and she took it in stride.

With a devilish smirk, Bellatrix Lestrange ran her hand through her hair, tousling it in a way that she _knew_ drove them wild. "Hello, boys."

***Look, an update! And cover art! Sweet, right?***


	11. Instead of Smoking

"I've brought you all coffee."

The dementors looked at me like I'd grown another head.

"Coffee," I said again. I waved the bag of Muggle Insta-Coffee in the air. Yes, it was Muggle, but the stuff was powerful. And kinda tasty.

Two dozen dementors continued to stare at me in confusion.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm trying to say sorry for no smoking, okay?"

I received breathing in response.

"Give it a shot," I tried.

* * *

Alarm bells rang throughout the Ministry as witches and wizards Apparated, Floo'd, or simply ran in panic in their efforts to escape. The ceiling was crowded with dementors, swirling about in a great hurricane and swooping down gleefully. They moved so fast they were nearly a blur.

And I just stood there, gaping at my creation. A witch nearby screamed as a dementor soared frighteningly close to her hat. A part of me laughed at her (because she was tall), but I quickly silenced it.

"Serena!"

Oh. Shoot.

Enter the boyfriend, although right now he was looking very "boss." "Cornelius, dear, how are you?" I greeted, extra sweet.

Fudge was a fuming mess, with his bowler hat askew and his pallor pale. I guess he was sensitive to dementors or something. "Don't try and be cute," he snapped, and I pouted. "The Ministry is in chaos because of you! What did you _do?_"

I paused. "Well, Fudge, it really isn't my fault. In fact, we can point the blame finger at you. Why can't they smoke, Fudge? Why can't my dementors puff a soul every now and again?"

Fudge's lip trembled furiously. However, after a moment, he calmed down a bit. "So we can blame Rita Skeeter?"

Rita didn't write for awhile after that.

***I love ripping on Rita. If you find a typo, you win a Skittle. Your choice in color.***


	12. Dementor Double Date

Fudge glared at me across the table. "Serena, you said tonight you wouldn't bring your work home."

I shrugged. "I got overloaded. Besides, they were curious." I picked up my wine glass and took a sip.

"But Serena, this is a date."

I nodded. I wasn't going to disagree with him.

"At a Muggle restaurant."

Again, nodding.

Fudge rubbed his face with his hand. "You brought two bloody dementors."

"Language!" I cried, exaggerating my horror. Behind me, Bowtie and Lady Pink Bow waggled their decrepit fingers at him.

"I can't allow you to do this!" my boyfriend nearly yelled.

I shrugged. "Muggles can't see them."

Fudge gestured around the restaurant. I followed his hand. The Muggles were cowering at their tables, shivering in their light summer clothes and looking morbid.

I grimaced. Fudge glared at me.

"Fine," I conceded.

***not my best. I just like the image of dementors wagging their fingers.***


End file.
